How to Disappear
by ArielleMoonlight
Summary: Marie is growing up to realise her teenage crush is something way more complicated. Logan is oblivious. And in love with Jean.
1. Chapter 1

Okay, we're assuming Marie and Logan have a better stand on their relationship here than in the film version. **No Jean hate in the comments please!** I promise I'm not an anti-Rogan-er in disguise. I promise I will write something nice next. Pinky promise.

Usual warnings, I don't own anything, Rated M for mature content, yada yada.

Starts at beginning of X2.

Chapter 1

I was there, sprawled out across the bed in my room, trying to concentrate on English homework. I usually loved reading, but this renaissance-era poetry stuff had bored the socks right off me. Literally, I was more interested in trying to get my socks off with my big toe.

The morning was unusually quiet, the residents mostly trying to catch up on sleep or downstairs watching cartoons. Sunday at the mansion.

I was a creature of habit, always enjoying waking up that little bit earlier to enjoy the darkness creeping back to allow for a new day. It was especially pretty out at the moment. Fall.

Hardly anything stirred apart from the slight breeze on the air outside, rusting the leaves. And then a soft buzzing, like a fly trapped behind the blind. But it grew steadily louder, closer.

My heart seemed to stop in my chest as I placed that noise along with the scents that always accompanied it. Smoke and leather. Molsons. Logan.

I didn't even check out the window before taking off at full speed past his long-ago vacated room, down the stairs, not careful about how loudly my bare feet were smacking against the polished wood. I could feel the wide beam spread over my face, grinning like a lunatic but again, I didn't care. He was back.

He stood in the hall, silhouetted in the morning light but I knew he'd look just as I'd remembered him. Face set into a heavy glare, the expression yelled "fuck off" and people would give him a wide berth. The desired effect. Tawny hair that stuck up in places, wild and unkempt. And dark eyes. The eyes of a predator.

I was always fascinated by his eyes that seemed to change colour given his mood. They ranged from amber-flecked green to inkiest of black and all the shades in-between. Right now they were my favourite hue of greeny-brown, like the forest blended together.

I ran and almost jumped into him, Logan putting his arms out to catch me just in time. He seemed surprised. Like he didn't think I would miss him.

His strong arms were taught at first but they slowly relaxed into a hug when realised I wasn't attacking him. I slid down his body until my feet were firmly back on the floor, only then did he release me.

"Miss me, kid?" he asked with a slight smirk. Damn I'd missed that smile.

"Not really." I replied offhandedly.

"What are you doing up this early?"

"I was going to go for a walk."

"Without any shoes, huh?"

I looked down at my bare, orange toenailed feet, looking so small and clean next to his battered boots. Busted.

"Come on, I could use some coffee. I'm shattered." Logan

I followed him into the kitchen, where he slung his duffle under the table before re-filling the coffee machine. Dark splotches of watery grounds trailed over the counter on their way to the sink, and he'd left the filters and the milk out.

Good thing Storm was at the UN Mutant conference or she would've had a heart attack over that mess. And he'd been here all of five minutes! There was a kind of secret satisfaction in being the only one knowing he was back. I had him all to myself.

"So did you find any of the answers you were looking for?"

He managed to get the coffee machine working. Two streams of thick, steaming coffee trickled into the mug. He turned to face me, leaning against the counter with his arms folded.

"No, the trail went cold just north of Alberta."

"Colder than it already is? It's freezing up there already."

His lips twisted up into a sardonic grin. "See your wit has sharpened while I was away."

"I need all the practice I can get if i'm to keep up with you."

"Glad to hear they allow you time for recreational activities." He moved the mug to his lips, talking a gulp of scalding hot coffee. I always wondered if he was immune to mouth burns or if he just got a twisted kind of enjoyment out of the pain.

"Well, I wouldn't say that. The workload they dole out is heavy. I've got two assignments due in on Wednesday which I have to finish. So there's that.."

"And the professors been giving me private lessons. Helping get my control up." He raised his eyebrows as he took another swig of coffee.

"I managed to hold his hand for a whole five minutes last time." I smiled in pride, thinking about how much progress I had made in those six months Logan had been gone. I still had Magneto rattling around up there but at least the professor had managed to compartmentalise him into a smaller space.

The bigger part, and the part I had managed to hide from the professor, was Logan's influence. I liked having his presence with me. It was comforting. It made me feel safe, like he was watching out for me.

He flashed me a rare smile. The kind of smile I'd only seen him wear once or twice.

"That's great, kid. How are things going with Drake?"

I contemplated the answer I was going to give. Bobby was nice and we got on well but he really wasn't my type. He was so green you would think carrots would start sprouting from this ears at any moment. That and he had a faint but detectable undertone of lime jello about him. This impression of him could have been suggested by my inner Logan, but it'd already rubbed off enough on me to taint my view of him.

Whatever the case, Bobby wasn't adequate anymore.

A flash of red caught my attention at the door and there was Jean, standing in her loosely-tied robe, looking startled. A felt a dark shadow fall over my face, like a curtain coming down at intermission, as I glowered at her.

Neither Logan nor Jean noticed. They were only, and acutely, aware of each other.

"Logan?" Jean blinked once, like she was still trying to figure out why he was there.

"Jean, how are you?"

"Good.. I'm good." She replied distractedly and then coming back to her senses, walking over to pull two mugs out of the cupboard.

Since Logan had been gone, her relationship with Scott had been much better. There were no more hushed arguments or icy silences that drained the atmosphere from the room. They had even finally gotten engaged a few months earlier.

As innocent as she looked, Jean had a secret. One she shared with the Wolverine. One that I knew about only through the longing glances they used to share when they thought nobody was looking. The slight, careful touches which said he cared more than any spoken words could. And the insistent thunk-thunk-thunk of the headboard on the other side of my bedroom wall.

I didn't hate her, not in the slightest. Jean had always been kind to me, motherly even. She'd patched me up after the run in with Magneto, seen to it that I had the comfort of my own bedroom to help me recover. One in the teachers wing.

But what she did to Scott was horrible, and I disapproved. Nobody deserved that. Not even Scott.

I cleared my throat loudly which made Jean jump and Logan turn back towards me, wearing an irritated expression.

"Rogue! You scared me." Jean said, her hand flying to her throat. I had the memory of wrapping a strong, veined hand around that neck, feeling the soft pulse beneath and wondering if I'd ever feel this close to another person again.

"Sorry. I was just leaving anyway." I made a quick exit so neither of them could see how much it hurt to be in love with someone who was completely oblivious.

…

I knocked on Logan's door and waited for a sign I could enter. Only once had I made the mistake of walking in on him without letting my presence known, just as he had got out of the shower. I was inches away from being skewered on those metal claws again.

I'd learnt my lesson from that day onwards; never sneak up on the Wolverine. Although I did get a sneak peak that was almost worth it.

He was spread out over his king-sized bed, Molsons in one had and the TV remote in the other, flicking through the channels without showing the slightest interest. Even though the bed was large, Logan filled most of the space. Dirty clothes, underwear and towels were strewn over the carpet and there were a few cigar stubs littering the windowsill.

"Nice to see you have settled in then."

"Sit down and shut up, or leave. Your choice."

"What's up with you?" I asked as I shut the door and moved towards the bed.

He took a swig from the bottle and threw the remote down. "Nothing…just had a long day."

"Go on." I replied, brushing a small stack of folders over so I could sit across from him.

"Chuck put me on teaching duty with One-eye." He pulled a face. "Said I have to pull my weight around here if I expected food and board."

"That's fair, right?"

"I guess. But why do I have to be shut in with him all day. He grates on me with the constant drabble of praise for the kids. Tell 'em they either learn to fight properly or they're goin' to get hurt! He needs to stop pussy-footing around it."

"So I take it you have different teaching styles?"

"Not half." He put the empty bottle down on the dresser beside the bed and scooted over to make space for me.

"I ain't goin' ta bite ya, kid. Not hard anyway."

I wouldn't have minded if he did. I settled in next to him, pushing the pillows up to get more comfortable, always leaving that safe distance between us, where he couldn't accidentally brush over me and catch me at unawares. Not that he was ever concerned with that.

I was still close enough to feel the warmth rolling of him in waves, the heat from him radiating into me like beams from the sun.

Sometimes I think I would like that, having more of his memories, more of him inside me. When you're used to so many minds buzzing around, having just your own thoughts can get lonely.

We watched re-runs of the NFL playoffs in silence for a while, Logan's jiggling foot more holding my attention.

"Did you eat? They had spaghetti for dinner." I was half hoping he would suggest we go out. It would have done us both good to get away, but I could already tell what his answer was going to be.

"I wasn't hungry." That was a lie. He was always hungry.

Logan grabbed another, larger bottle from beside his bed, cracked the top off with the same hand and took a deep swig. I smelt the liquor before I saw it. Rich and strong, smooth as honey with the sting of a bee. Whiskey.

"Why are you here?"

I turned to face him, ready to see the accusation in his eyes. He thinks I feel sorry for him, thinks I'm here because I feel obligated. But the look isn't there.

"I mean, why do you even bother with me, Marie? I'm a mess."

He had a point; why did I bother? I couldn't exactly explain it. At every point in my life when I needed him, he was there. In Lachlan City. At the Statue of Liberty. Even stupid things like when I'd had an argument with Bobby or been sick with a stomach bug. Even if he wasn't physically there, I had him in my head, which was the next best thing.

So when he needs me, I repay the favour. No matter how hard it is. It's the only favour he lets me re-pay.

"What are friends for, right?"

"I guess." He replied, with another hefty swallow before offering me the bottle. I shook my head.

"They're engaged." Logan was staring in the direction of the TV but his eyes were distinctly unfocused.

"It happened a few months ago."

"Yeah, I thought that would happen."

I don't know why that stung so much. Maybe that he didn't readily seem to accept it. That he was sitting in here sulking.

I'd initially thought it was just about sex, just the pretty red-head's body that attracted him. Logan liked a challenge and the allure of something unobtainable would have been a thrill to him.

Although in the months leading up to Logan's departure, it had been like he'd been trying to get under Scott's skin. He'd deliberately gone out of his way to cause tension. Snide remarks, little altercations between him and Scott had been at an all-time high.

Maybe he was hoping for an explosive, end-of-all-ends type of argument so he could push in and fill Scott's place. The Wolverine wasn't used to losing.

He turned to look at me and I saw, reflected in his eyes, a flare of pain. The kind of pain I understood all too well.

And in the morning when I go to check on him, he's gone.


	2. Chapter 2

Hi Everyone, sorry for the long absence. Having not just writers block but life block! Hope you enjoy this next chapter. Please follow and review :)

…

Chapter 2

He wasn't gone as long as before. The leaves had disappeared, blown away and replaced by the first flurries of snow.

My cell rang, and he spoke four gruff words to me.

"You fancy a walk?"

That was all he said. He gave me just enough time to say okay before he hung up. I knew where. The highest natural point of the city. A hill not more than twenty minutes walk away.

Even with his back to me, I knew it was him. Silhouetted against the fading light, leaning back and looking up into the sky. The wind ruffling silently through his hair.

"Been a while, Kid. How're you?"

"Fine."

Kid. It was going to be Kid forever.

We used to come to this place all the time. It's the best view of the sunset over the city. The colours are vivid and violent against the greying haze of the buildings below. Orange and pink, purple bleeding into deep violet and finally black. I know it's caused by pollution, blatant and constant disregard of care. It's like the sky is crying out, slowly dying.

It holds the power to take my breath away every time. I think it goes to show. There is beauty in pain.

I steal a glance over at Logan. It's nice we could just sit like this. It's rare that people can understand the desire to sit in silence, the peace it can bring to your soul. The tranquility.

Silence can be healing. Logan taught me that.

We sat close, our thighs almost touching, legs dangling over the edge of the steep rise. He reached over and pulled me to him, his long arm draped over my neck. And he wasn't afraid I was going to drain the life force from him. Not afraid of the leach I had convinced myself I was. He made me feel wanted. Normal.

"I missed this."

I tried not to smile. The weight of his arm was heavy, comforting. I missed him too.

I wish he missed me in the same way. They say it's a stupid teenage crush, words like 'hero worship' and 'infatuation' are thrown around. They think I don't know what they say about me. They don't understand, they can never understand. Logan could be my only chance. The only one I'd ever let though my barriers.

I can't say I've never thought about it because it would be a lie. His intense gaze washing over me, liking what he sees. Strong hands, touching me. What it would feel like to have the weight of him settled over me. The gentle graze of his lips against mine.

The professor keeps going with my training because he feels sorry for me. He doesn't know that I know. The work he is doing, the control and mind-work can only delay the inevitable. It can't be stopped. Not a force as powerful as this. I won't ever be normal, do normal things. Not unless…

"Logan. Do you ever think about the cure?"

"Sometimes. It wouldn't work though. My body would fight it like an infection. Would be outta my systems before it even registers."

"Don't you think it could be work a shot?"

I felt him shrug beside me. He was basically indestructible, not that it stopped him from trying. Every time they get back from a mission, Logan's suit is basically in tatters. He goes in with abandon, not because of his concern for the cause, but because he didn't care what happened to him. At least he could touch though.

"I…No one understands, Logan. What it's like to live without touch. A hug, a handshake… a kiss."

He pulled back to look at me, his arm dropping away. I felt the cold wind rush up to take its place.

"Is that was this is about? Some boy?"

"No, not exactly. It's more than that. Everyday I watch people get on with their lives, wondering when mine is going to start. Nobody wants to come near me unless I'm covered from head to toe." It was true. I saw the look of panic in their eyes when they saw a slither of white, un-covered skin.

"You don't need to rely on other people for your happiness, kid. What do you think I've been doing my whole life?"

"It's different for you. You have some semblance of a normal life. You don't have to worry about people not wanting to be around you. Not wanting to touch you." I knew he was getting plenty of that in and outside the mansion. I pushed the image of Jean away.

"I still have my own problems to deal with." He growled.

"You can hide the claws, Logan."

"You don't get it. Do you know how many nights I lay awake thinking it's going to be like this forever? Never-ending. In a couple of years, everyone I know will be dead. I'll live out my lifetime again and again and again. At least you can see the end."

"I didn't mean…"

"Do you feel like it's something you NEED to feel accepted?"

"I just thought…" I tried to hide my rapidly reddening face.

"Don't. You're perfect the way you are."

He sighed, lit a cigar that was stashed in his jacket pocket. I stared into the distance, not seeing anything but blackness and the innocently twinkling lights of the city below.

"You want to know what's even more fucked up? I wished for death so many times. Just to die like a normal human being. Turns out I'll get my wish in a couple more decades. The metal covering my bones is slowly killing me."

He took one last puff before grinding what was left of his cigar into the ground and stalking off into the night.

…

A couple hours later, after a bath and hot chocolate, I lay in bed thinking about what he said. I was, quote, 'perfect' the way I was. Did he not see the mess that was in front of him. Clearly he did or he wound't have the need to say it. What he thinks I need to hear.

It always left me wondering why he stopped the camper all that time ago. He must have thought there was something in me worth saving, the bedraggled little whelp I was. The wolverine was not one to take pity. He worked in facts.

A quiet knock disturbed my thoughts.

"It's me."

I cringed before opening the door, wishing I chose less babyish sleeping attire than my soft flannel pyjamas. The ones with ducks all over them.

"I just wanted to come.. uh.. say, you know.."

I raised my eyebrows at him. We both have that stubborn streak. An inability to say sorry. I can't remember if I had it before Liberty Island or not.

"I'm needed on a mission. Should be a simple in and out kinda thing. I wanted to let you know. So you don't worry."

I nodded.

"And I didn't want to leave without sorting this thing out."

Ah, there it is.

I looked up into his eyes. Green and still.

Then he stepped in closer, into my room. I was acutely aware of how tall he was, standing over me, legs touching mine. The leather of his suit cold though my pyjamas.

I tried to look away but his eyes have this kind of hypnotic pull that draws me in every time. A multitude of contradictions. Cool heat. Dangerous calm.

He leaned down, wrapping a hand around the back of my head, pressing his lips to my forehead. A few seconds. Not long enough for my skin to start pulling.

"I'll always want you around, Kid."

"Logan? Are you ready to go?" Behind him I see Jean standing in the hall, looking pretty as always. Even though her hair is pulled up in a ponytail and she isn't wearing any make up.

"I'll see you later."

With a shaky exhale, I mange to close the door, sinking back against it in frustration.

I tell myself I'm not going to cry. That it's pathetic to sit here crying over what I can't have. No matter what I tell myself, it's no use. I scrub my face with the back of my hand, wishing I could be less broken. Wishing I could be someone who could be like everyone else.

…

His unwelcome memories bubble up to the surface. Flashes of dark heat, carnal desire. _The smell, the taste, the feel of her. Pheromones mixed like the deadliest drug. A habit that can't be kicked._

It's nights like this, when much needed sleep evades me, that my creativity peaks.

Dark swirls spiral out from the centre of the canvas, the dim light only casting enough glow to see in two-tone. I guess Logan would be able to tell all the colours apart like it was daylight. That's one part of his mutation that would come in useful. Unlike mine, which has no upside.

How could he possibly think he understands what it's like not being able to touch. I couldn't even take change from the cashier at the gas station without gloves on.

All the things I wanted, a boyfriend, a husband, someday a family of my own, seemed pretty impossible without being able to touch them.

_At least you can see the end._

What the fuck was that about?

I flick on another lamp so I don't have to blindly fumble around the paint box for another brush. The canvas is streaked with dark green, the exact color of the fir trees outside my window. In daylight of course. Right now they are an indistinguishable hulking black mass.

It's almost five am and I've gotten a grand total of zero hours sleep. So maybe I'm worried about him. For the whole team, of course, but specifically Logan.

I know he can take care of himself. I know he can basically heal from anything. It's his stupid head I'm worried about. He'll get the idea he can take on more than anyone else, dive in without back up. What if they manage to capture him? Lock him up somewhere he can't escape from.

Green tinged images fill my vision. _Deep tanks filled with cold water. Shackles. Needles. The feeling of the water pressing heavily down on my chest. Desperately grasping for air as the first sharp stab from the needle burrows into my bone._

The end of the paintbrush I didn't realise was in my mouth splinters and I had to go into the bathroom to wash dried-up paint flakes from my mouth.

He'd be fine. And although I know he will be, it's still hard to stop worrying.

I stayed scouted out on my window ledge until the first rays of dawn come seeping over the horizon and the tell-tale creek of the loose floorboard through the wall allows me my first breath in what seems like hours.

I had to check he was okay. Only a peek, then I could relax and maybe finally get some sleep.

He lay on his front, sheet pulled over the bottom half of his naked body. The smooth caramel skin of his back was unmarked. Perfect. Not a scratch on him.

He groaned in his sleep, pulled a hand out from under the pillow. The knuckles were crusted with dried blood.

I crept back towards the door, avoiding the loose floorboard and stepping back over his uniform, which was sprawled over the carpet like he shed it on his way to the bed. He probably did.

"M'rie?"

I spun back around. Did he just mutter his name in his sleep?

He'd rolled over, one eye open, too exhausted to lift his head. I felt my face go hot. The fact I thought he could be dreaming about me is stupid. Or that I hoped? I don't know if that makes me desperately sad or sadly desperate. Is there even a difference?

"Hey. Are you okay?"

"Fine. Just tired." His voice was cracked, raw sounding.

"Can't sleep?"

He shook his head into the pillow, mumbled something indistinguishable.

I went to the bathroom, run a washcloth under the hot tap. Wiped the grime from his hands and under his fingernails. When I was done the washcloth was stained a muddy red.

The ghost of a smile cracked over his lips.

"You're too good to me."

Somehow I knew that already. I watched everyday as he chased after a woman who didn't return his affection. I dealt with his bad moods and cleaned up his messes. I knew he appreciated me. But it wasn't going to be enough forever. I already wanted more.

I stood to leave but his hand bolted out to catch my wrist. Skin on skin.

"Stay with me a while?" He gently pulled me down to the bed, dragging the sheet up between us to create a thin barrier. His arms wrapped themselves around me, his face buried in my hair. And a minute later he was asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Hang in there guys, it's coming. This chapter was the hardest to write for some reason. The rest will be coming a lot sooner. Please follow and review :)

Chapter 3

Scott held the training session by himself the next day, while most of the other members of staff slept in. Although it was his turn to stay behind last night, his turn to babysit, he still looked like he hadn't slept. Visibly exhausted, even the dark glasses could cover it up.

The junior team fought hard though the simulation, adeptly working in sync to determine where the next strike was going to hit.

I just stand there, amongst the rubble and smoke, like an idiot, not knowing what to do. My powers can only work off of someone else's. Without them, I have nothing.

Although we are a team, we all work together, there is a feeling I can't shake. Like I don't belong. I don't feel the closeness that they all seem to share. I make them feel uneasy.

A missile hurls past, barley missing my shoulder. Another ricochets off Piotr and blasted into nearby building, annihilating it.

"Rogue!" He yelled, plunking a gigantic metallic hand on my head, pushing me down just in time as a considerable chunk of rock rebounded off of my newly transformed steel form.

The contact was just long enough to daze him for a few seconds, allowing the control he had on his armoured body to seep away. And for a single line of thought to echo though my mind. /_holding us back_/

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" All I can mange to do it blink at him. He shook his head before taking off to help elsewhere, leaving me slumped in the dirt behind what reminded of the wall.

_/holdingusback/holdingusback/holdingusback/_

Another missile shoots overhead, zeroing in on Bobby. He turned just in time to realise it was coming, but the velocity left him unprepared. I thought he was done for but instead, it shot straight though him like he was make of smoke. It wasn't until he moved to the side, I saw Kitty had wrapped her arms around him, allowing the torpedo to pass though them.

_/holdingusback/holdingusback/holdingusback/holdingusback/holdingusback/holdingusback/ _The unspoken words a litany in my mind.

I felt completely hopeless, hiding like some coward.

I don't know how much more of this I could take.

…

There was an argument. Logan left the mansion in the blackest rage. Jean crying in a heap on the floor in the room she and Scott shared. A lump of plaster from the wall at her feet.

It took me two hours to find him. Sitting with his back to the ring, blood smudged across the backs of his hands.

The smell, heavy and stagnant, took me back to that first time I'd seen him. Tall. Powerful.

The way his body moved. Muscles bunching, taught underneath bronze flesh.

It was magnificent to watch. His size gave him power, accelerated healing allowing him uninterrupted speed and agility that would have been zapped from any other man. Experience and heightened senses gifting him the kind of foresight that wasn't found in nature.

He could spot his opponents weaknesses in seconds. Knew exactly how to shatter whatever false pretence they were working off, and laid down the law.

Fearless. Unbreakable. He wasn't called the king of the cage for nothing.

Now, that image of him melts away.

I watched him drink and unconsciously get high on adrenaline, absorbing it from his surroundings. Slowly letting his mind slip away from thoughts of her. Because I knew that's what he's thinking about. I could tell by the way he was so unaffected by everything else.

When it comes to Jean, there is no contest. No internal conflict. She came first.

"Hi."

He didn't ask me why I was here, the kind of place where a seventeen year-old is definitely not allowed. He didn't even turn around.

I slid into the seat beside him.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong? Or am I going to have to beat it outta ya?" I raised a fist and lightly knocked his shoulder.

"Wouldn't know where to begin…" he started.

"Try me?"

He sighed, stared down into the empty glass. Like the right answer was scrawled on the bottom.

"Jean is pregnant. She won't leave Scott." He singled the bartender for a refill.

I looked away, unsure of how to reply. Something like this was a possibility, but Jean allowing to to happen? She wasn't the type of woman who would let that kind of thing go beyond her control.

"Don't act all surprised. I know that you know what's been going on. You have the room next to mine, for Christ sake!"

"Look, I know you always mean well… but I don't need your pity, or you telling me what you think I need to hear. Go home, Rogue!"

The use of that name seared into me like it was a branding iron.

I thought he was only physically unbreakable. Now I realise that's only scratching the surface. He is a man defined by barbed edges. Sharp claws. Sharp intellect.

Stinging bitter view on life.

Those edged defences shield his heart, hardened by pain but still human despite it all. Impenetrable. Safe. From all but one. And she didn't deserve him.

I'd always thought I was the blind one. Silly little girl who has limited experience in the world.

Now I see it's everyone else. Blind to Logan's ways, whether intentional or not, allowing him to get away with shit even the special kids wouldn't. Blind to his deep-rooted attachment to her, no matter how indecent or obvious.

"When're you going to realise that she doesn't love you, Logan? Because if rejecting the father of her baby isn't enough, then nothing will be."

"You're seventeen. You don't know what love is!" He snapped.

Didn't I? I had feelings so deep they scared me. I wanted to yell at him for being so dense. Logan was just as clueless as the rest of them. Unseeing, or unwilling to look just beneath the surface. He is especially blind to the pull he has on me.

The telltale sting behind my eyes betrayed me. I knew he could smell the tears before they fell.

"Marie?" I'm always too aware when he's this close. My nerve endings practically on fire. I couldn't face him. Not if I was to remain inscrutable.

"Look at me, Marie." He reaches out, angles my chin towards him with a finger. Just that most ordinary of touches was enough to ignite my skin. I could feel the flush burning in my cheeks. When I meet his eyes, they are soft, although flat in the dim light of the bar. He studied me with a blank expression, like he was trying to figure me out.

I don't know how much longer I can hide from him. How much longer I can pretend I don't care.

He's so close, face inches from mine. It was taking all my will-power to keep my skin turned off. In doing so, I unwillingly let my guard down for just a second. A second too long.

A strange look crosses his face, like thick cloud cover lifting. Then it's too late for pretending anymore. His hand drops away. The silence between us crackling, heavy with words unsaid but not unthought.

_/The promise I made you doesn't extend that far, Kid./_

I could stand the tension any longer. I had to get out of there. Anywhere but here. Somewhere untainted by thoughts of him. Which was going to be hard as I carried him with my not just in my head, but in my heart.

He'd do anything for me. Just not what I so desperately wanted him to.

I loved him.

I hated him for that.

…

The waiting room was made to look inviting. Non-intimidating. Plush couches and stacks of colourful magazines. Debussy was playing placidly though the sound system as I filled in the paperwork. Not too much information was needed. Full name. Age. Place of residence. Contact. Next of kin.

Funny how those three little words mean so much. I left that section blank.

He promised he would look out for me.

I thought of all the things that made him who he was. Accessible through his memories. The ones I'd stolen.

_/being submerged, the cold water pressing me down/ the burn of liquid metal being bonded to my bones/ the crisp fall air, the best time of year/ the flushed skin of a willing female underneath me, her scent driving me wild/ the metallic tang of blood thick in the air after the escape/ enjoying the nighttime silence on top of a hill/ Jean's supple body moulded to my own/ the slicing pain of the blades between my knuckles/ sunrise over the Canadian Rockies, a warm feeling of deep contentment/ uncensored fantasies, her mouth wrapped around my cock, watching her writhe in pleasure as I fucked her, sleeping with her in my arms after, rich chestnut coloured hair fanned out over my chest._

All those things I wish I could forget, along with the memories from others.

_/watching my mother fall to the floor, dead/ sitting in Mare's bedroom, so close to her, plans to explore the country, feeling her soft lips brush against mine/ reading my little girl a bedtime story before tucking her into bed/ _

And other smaller slices from other people thoughts

_/taking orders in a run-down diner, hoping to get tipped enough to make ends meet this month/ watching the second hand on the clock tick by in slow motion as I waited for the bell to ring for the end of math class/ giving a lecture on mutant rights in Nebraska, feeling the attention of the room drift/ the sparkle of hope in Kitty's eyes when I froze the lake for her/_

They all swirl around in my brain, unchecked. It's a miracle I can even have my own thoughts with the amount of stuff that goes on in there. And it's not just memories.

Fragments of their personalities stick around too, depending on how long the contact was. With Logan, I find a lot of his preferences are now mine too.

I was raised a vegetarian. Now I crave red meat. And the smell of tobacco.

The cure was going to be my key to unlocking the world. I would finally be able to fit in. My perception of it however, was different to the reality. I thought I would feel a flood of warmth twisting through my veins as the cure shot into my system. The tingling in my hands slowly evaporating. But nothing.

Until the nurse placed a hand on my shoulder, told me I could open my eyes. I started at the sensation of touch against my bare skin.

…

Twelve hours later I found myself in the type of establishment that didn't care if it sold alcohol to minors. It wasn't the sort of place that attracted minors. Middle of nowhere dump, sticky floors, no doors on the bathroom stalls.

I was here for one reason only. To prove my worth. Dressed in the sluttiest outfit I could assemble on short notice, tight leather skirt and spiky heeled boots 'borrowed' from Jubilee.

Thanks to Logan, I was familiar to the taste of alcohol, but unaccustomed to the affect it had on me. It was easier to get it down quickly.

"Hey baby, what's a thing as pretty as you doing out all by yourself?"

I flicked my gaze up to the guy. He was pretty cute.

"Maybe I'm waiting for someone like you?" I smiled, tossing back my fourth shot.

"Let me buy you another drink."

Less than five minutes later, he had me pushed up against the inside of a bathroom stall, practically attacking my neck with his mouth.

The sensation of his fingers deftly working their way into my pants was a strange one. Different. Until I felt his thumb rub against the slick bundle of nerves beneath my briefs. I arched into his hand with a shudder as a spike of pleasure rushed through me, followed by a wave of nausea. Shit, I should have stopped at four.

"Whoa baby, we're just getting started." He leaned down as if to kiss me, but I turned my face away, grinding into his hand.

"Don't stop." I whispered, closing my eyes, focusing on the growing ache between my legs.

The Logan in my head growling that this wasn't a good idea. Me, taking a smug kind of satisfaction in his disapproval. I've been solely reliving his intimate moments too damn long to listen to him now. He didn't get the call the shots in my life anymore.

My head swirled, foggy with the images in my head and the influence of the whiskey.

He did think about me. The proof was right there in his own thoughts. What infuriated me is that he would never acknowledge it. Not with her around.

I told myself I wasn't doing this to get back at him. I wanted it. I wanted to feel like I was worth something. But _my head!_ I don't remember it feeling quite like this in anyones memories. I could barely keep my eyes open.

"That's right, baby. Feels good, don't it?"

My stomach flipped over as he pushed my face into the graffitied wall and I tried not to think about the filth accumulated there. The toilets had no seats, let alone lids, and didn't I hear somewhere that bacteria are cannonballed out when you flush?

He roughly pulled my skirt up, kicking my legs apart and …

The _*SKNIT*_ of his zipper the last thing I heard before I pass out.


	4. Chapter 4

Here it is! Sorry for the delay. Please follow and leave me a review if you're enjoying! :)

Chapter 4

Pale light filters in through an open window, the gauzy drapes floating in a soft breeze. Strange pale blue walls instead of the wooden panels.

Still foggy from sleep, I sat upright in the bed I realized was not my own. A stab of pain shoots through my skull like a lightening bolt and I fall back to the pillow. It was like landing in a cloud. Where the heck was I? Surely not the Mansion.

I desperately tried to grasp at strands of memory from last night, but nothing comes. Nothing but voices.

I tried to squash them down, like I'd learnt to. Tried to focus on centring myself. Concentrating on little things. Like steadily breathing in and out to the count of ten. _/In for four, out for six/_ Feeling my own presence in my body, not the many others clamouring for attention.

It doesn't work as well as it used to. The voices seemed louder, their chatter forming together into a great swell of noise. Deafening.

I want to shut them out. Push them away into the mental boxes the professor helped to form. But I don't have the energy.

"You had quite the night, last night?"

Logan. Standing over me with a deep frown. Looking so different in the unfamiliar surroundings. Stoic. Calm.

"Don't remember, huh?" His expression gave nothing away. Did we…?

All of a sudden, he's too close. And I'm all too aware that I'm staring. At the furrows between his eyebrows. The exposed notch at the base of his neck. The part of him that I know he is partial to being licked.

And he is staring back. For a brief second, I thought I saw a flicker of change within him. A brief flutter. It made my breath catch in my dry throat.

He placed a glass down beside me. "Drink."

"Thanks." I managed to croak, picking up the glass with an unsteady hand.

"Come downstairs when you're ready. I think we need to talk."

He left the door open behind him.

There was one of his shirts hanging at the end of the bed, draped neatly over the bedpost with a clean pair of socks. It was then I realized the absence of last night's attire. Oh God. What happened last night?

I slip on the fresh clothes and cautiously venture out of the room, listening for any familiar sounds that might give me a clue as to where I was. I found myself in a bright hallway, light flooding though a window above the stairwell. Okay, definitely not the Mansion.

As I make my way downstairs, my feet are warmed through the thick socks. Underfloor heating. A breeze worked its way across from double doors that opened up onto a wooden jetty, where he was sitting with a mug of what I supposed was his morning coffee.

I take a few uncertain steps, the floor beneath me shifting slightly with the tide. I manage to make it to the end and lower myself down to his level, a hand pressed against the centre of my forehead in effort the counteract the thrumming.

He made no effort to acknowledge my presence. So we just sit there, him with his coffee, and me trying to cling onto some vague semblance of control.

The deep grey lake stretches out to a point where it's lined with an indistinguishable blur of darkness, that I guessed were trees, the surface flat and smooth as a mirror in the stillness of early morning. It was nice. Peaceful.

I take a deep breath of the crisp air, trying to take it in and breath it out without it going all shaky. My skin prickled in the light wind, raising goose pimples over my flesh, reminding me I'm sitting on a dock in nothing but a borrowed shirt and a pair of socks.

Then I hear his voice; clipped. Harsh. It cuts through me leaving a sting in its wake.

"D'you have any idea how fuckin' **stupid** you are?"

I shut my eyes. Shut him out. I didn't need to hear this. Not now.

"That guy was going to take full advantage of you if I didn't interrupt."

The breeze blows again, his scent washing over me in a malevolent wave. It's soap, and leather and something so recognizable, it makes me want to cry. I clenched my jaw in an effort to keep the tears at bay.

"Was that some pathetic cry for attention?"

I don't know. Maybe it was? Maybe I was acting like brat and he was the only one not stupid enough to fall for it. I wish I knew. I wish I understood myself.

My head pulsates, full to capacity with all their judgments _/weak/thoughtless/selfish/worthless/naive/stupid/irresponsible/kid/holdingusback/_

I'm surprised the pressure doesn't crack my skull clean in two.

Why wouldn't he look at me? My trembling fingers grasp my face, clammy against hot skin. Angry tears roll down my cheeks and I sniff loudly, immediately regretting it. Wishing I could project at least some kind of maturity. God, what a mess. Jean would have never gotten into a blotchy, snotty wreck like this.

"We have real shit to be dealin' with, Marie. Not you!"

I felt like I should apologize. For what I did. For always screwing up. For being me. But I can't find the words. They fizzle and die on my tongue like sherbet.

The silence stretches between us. Buzzing. Numbing. My head throbbed.

He didn't do anything. Not speak. Not even move. He just sits there. Impassive. Detached.

Waiting for me to… Deny everything? Make sense? Manage logical thought? Pretend I still have my shit together? I don't think i'm capable of any of those things anymore.

"I'm sorry." I managed to choke out. The words almost got stuck, cutting into my raw throat.

I waited for him to continue scolding me like a disobedient child. But nothing follows. Emptiness.

Fresh tears prickle in the back of my eyes. He doesn't comfort me. No protective arm around my shoulder. The space between us seems as vast as the lake.

I wondered what he was thinking, then quickly back-pedalled. I didn't want to know. I didn't want him to think of me as this snivelling, selfish little brat. I wanted… I want…

What I always do. And not matter how many times he pushes me away, how many signs I get that tell me it's never going to happen, I still want him so badly it hurts. Not a protector, or a mentor, or a friend. Just Logan.

It's then I notice he's not wearing shoes. A rare moment for a man always so prepared. Bare toes grazing the water below, spreading ripples outwards in shimmering arcs. The sun was coming up.

He's quiet for a long time. So long that the ripples he made on the lakes surface disappear back into their glassy depths. Then I hear him let out a heavy sigh, and I'm so relieved he hadn't just written me off that hope surges up, layering more to the heavy swell of emotions that are conspiring to suffocate me.

My hands tremble piteously as I pull his shirt tighter around me.

"Where are my clothes?"

"Of all the questions ya need answers for, **_that's_** the one you pick?" He snorted, "They were covered in that guy's stench and your vomit. I threw 'em in the wash."

I felt myself redden. His memories reminded me it was nothing he hadn't seen before. At least I hadn't tried to do anything humiliating. Like throw myself at him. God.

That brought tears to my eyes again. Would I ever stop being an embarrassment?

"You going to give me an insight to what goes on in that head of yours?" I couldn't look at him yet. Not if I was going to speak honestly.

"I just… I still have their memories." Searing through me. Picking me apart like vultures.

"Did you think it would solve all your problems?" He shot.

"I only wanted to experience what everyone else seems to be entitled to, Logan!"

"You mean that leach from last night? Yeah, what a gentleman. Leavin' you with marks like that." He gestured with his mug. My hand defensively flew to my neck, feeling the tender welts that only started smarting now attention was brought to them.

"I was tired of having to be careful around people. Of having them treat me like I have some kind of terminal disease." No matter how much he insists he get's it, he doesn't. He can't… nobody can understand.

"It doesn't help when you're so angry with me." My voice sounded shamefully small.

"Angry is a fuckin' understatement, Marie. Thought you were smarter than this." He scrubs a hand over his face, then back though his hair in frustration.

"You scared the livin' shit outta me. I don't even wanna think about what would've happened if I didn't get there when I did."

Why did he act like he cared? It's not like he was going to do anything about it.

"I would have been fine!" I grumbled, very aware I sounded the very thing I was trying to disprove.

"No, you wouldn't have! The piece o' shit spiked yer drink."

Aw crap! Crapcrapcrap!

Only now is it starting to really sink in what a complete and utter fuck-up I am. So wrapped up in everything in my head that I couldn't notice I'd been drugged? Or almost raped? Jesus. Why did he bother?

"Said I'd take care of you… I can't do that if you're gonna condemn yourself to drownin' in your own misery." His harsh words cut to the bone. Because every word of it was true. Shame burned though me.

"If I'm so much of a burden, then why don't you leave me to suffer?"

"Because I can't." He snapped.

I blink, wondering what he meant by that. Both of us staring out in opposite directions, a big, blank wall of silence looming between us. Both too stubborn and worn-out to deal with the problem head on.

He can't leave me alone? Because of all the time he's invested? Because of some misplaced sense of duty over a stupid promise he made to a fifteen-year-old?

I don't know what to say. I don't know if I should even say anything. I wish I understood something. Anything.

Everything he says just disorients me. Every conversation a contradiction to the one before. So I never know where I stand. Even his own thoughts don't make sense.

The influx of memories now I've opened that can of worms are unstoppable. Overwhelming. Chaotic. I squeeze my eyes shut, curl my limbs into my body, trying to focus on breathing evenly.

_/the water, piercing cold, suffocating/ ripped open from belly to chest by my own claws, searching around for the parasite in my chest/kept caged like the animal I was, small ,dark cell, no light, no air/the agonisingly sweet smell of an unfamiliar female filling the cab, young and innocent and curious and unclaimed/_

"Marie?"

I feel his fingers brush against my ear, ever so softly. Trailing down to my chin where he turns me towards him. The gentle touch is so unexpected, so much unlike what I anticipated, that my guard falls away. All voices are pinned down and silenced by his penetrating hazel gaze.

Like always, I'm drawn in by his magnetic pull. Dragging me in deeper until I didn't care about anything but being close to him. Enclosed within the tight confines of his warmth.

His other hand comes up to cradle my face. Where I expected callouses, his skin is unmarked and smooth. I wonder what it would be like to go through life without imperfections. Even if it was only on the surface.

I leaned in closer, breathing in his distinct, familiar smell. The one I've become so accustomed to. His lips were so close, parted slightly. Breath coming in slow, unfaltering swells. Even the beat of his heart was tangible, pulsating in steady rhythm. Solid. Reliable.

"Kid… I don't think…" he manages to breathe, easing me back with resolute control. Prying my fingers from his shirt collar. **Kid**.

In a single moment of cold clarity, I finally get it. It had nothing to do with morals or misjudged feelings or anything to do with me. It was about responsibility. His word.

I am so. **Fucking**. STUPID!

_Kid_. **KID**. The word bounces around in my head like it was powered by rocked fuel.

I attempted to run but his hand shot out to stop me, grasping me by the wrist. I made sure my powers were switched capital OFF. There was no way I was going to let him in now.

"Marie. You need ta listen to me." His voice forced patience. Like I was the one being unreasonable.

His grip on me tightened as I struggled against him, trying to jerk out of his powerful hold. But he didn't pull me towards him, just kept me from running, which infuriated me more.

_Let me…just let me go somewhere peaceful and die quietly. _

I attempted to swat him off, kick out with my sock-covered feet. Anything to make him me let go.

"No. Fuck you! I'm done with this. I don't care anymore. I don't CARE if you know! What does it matter? I'm just some stupid pathetic kid anyway."

This time he does pull me closer, gripping me tightly around the shoulders, pinning my arms to my sides to stop me from hitting him.

"Look Marie, I never asked you to put me on a pedestal. This version of me you're imagining, it doesn't exist." I felt like covering my ears, (if I had the use of my arms, that is) and humming loudly just to cover up whatever attempt at quietening me he had a crack at.

I was sick of the lies. Of the waiting and the longing and this unrealistic optimistic state he kept me in with all these distorted feelings and declarations.

"I'm fed up of excuses. I'm fed up with following you around like a lost sheep, hoping one day you'll open your eyes and see how deeply I care about you. I'm fucking FED UP of seeing you pine after Jean when she so clearly doesn't want to be with you!"

"That what you think?" He growled.

Something in his elusive resolve snaps and the steadily sinking feeling of regret started to register. Shit. Bringing Jean into this was a seriously bad move. As his eyes bore into me, wild and blazing, I realized how far over the line I'd crossed this time. Like dangerously crossed.

"You have no FUCKIN' clue what I know. What I feel." He snarled, "Just because you've had limited access to my head, it does not mean you're aware everything… because if you were, you'd understand."

I try to look aware from his furious glare, but he shakes me, lifting me inches off the floor to his eye level.

"Do you want me to deny everythin'? Say that I haven't been sleeping with her every chance I could get? Because it might make you feel less fuckin' _worthless?_"

Please stop. No more. Just… stop.

He released me and I tumbled to the floor, the wooden planks groaning beneath me. He backed up a few good steps. Far enough away for him to gain some portion of control again.

"Did you think I never noticed you? Never thought about… You went from this skinny kid to… Christ." He ran a hand through his hair, clearly at a loss to articulate his thoughts.

"D'you have ANY idea what it feels like to wake up in a cold sweat, realizing you were lusting after some fifteen-year-old freakin' KID? How THE FUCK do you think I could live with that?"

I felt my blood run cold.

"That other part of me. The one you can so easily overlook… he's selfish. He takes what he wants, what he needs, without regard for anythin' else. Not morals. Not age consent laws. Keeping my promise to you meant fightin' who I am, Marie. It meant **denying** that need!"

"Took all my willpower to drag him away from an adolescent girl who was as good as throwin' herself him. Drag him away from the girl he wanted to claim. And the less dominate part of me at the time knew better than to stick around to see how that'd turn out!"

The disorderly wreck of my mind couldn't quite latch onto the significance of what it was trying to apprehend. He was saying… what exactly?

"I was **supposed** to look out for you. You were **supposed** to be the chance for me to NOT screw up again. Instead, I had all these vile thoughts bein' tossed around up here!" He jabbed two fingers to his temple.

"You wondered why I kept my distance? Why I needed Jean?" He shook his head. "DON'T tell me I don't know what it's like! Because I sure as hell know."

For the longest moment, all I can seem to do is gawk at him, while his words reel back and forth in the space between us. I wondered if they somehow got lost on the way, came out all jumbled up.

Then he shakes his head resignedly, avoiding my eye, like he regrets the outburst. Or maybe it was me that he regretted telling. The tension bristling between us. Me, snivelling on the floor in his shirt. Him, imposing and rigid, casting a long shadow.

I watched as he snatched up his boots, I didn't notice them before, and stalked away without another word.

Huh? Where was he… He couldn't leave like that! With so many formless, unanswered questions floating around.

God, how did he expect me to anything after that? What, actually? All I would be able to do is sit here and marinate in every piercing, unfiltered thing he'd just blurted out.

"Wh…whereareyougoing?" It came out a shock of exhalation even I wasn't sure were words.

"To teach." He retorted, not looking back.


	5. Chapter 5

Hey guys, sorry again for the long wait. RL gets in the way! Anyways, I promise to _never_ **_ever_** leave one of my stories unfinished. Boy Scouts honour, or shall we just say Scott's honour… :D

Chapter 5

I sat staring at the empty space between the trees where he disappeared for the longest time. God only knows how long. Sitting bare-assed on the wooden dock willing myself not to look into his memories. Flashbacks I'd never had enough guts to peek at before, but unwillingly, sometimes brief snippets slip through. More feeling than anything else.

_/Delilah's luscious lips wrapped around my thick/Tiffany's mocha-colored skin, slick with sweat and sliding over my/Kate from Texas, and her deliciously round tits bouncing/that blond who's name I never did catch between rounds from/_

It took me a minute before I realized I didn't want to know. Grasping my temples in frustration, I rolled onto my back, staring up at the bright sky. It stung at my eyes like sand, making my head throb in protest. God, I needed a shower. And something to eat. And a nap.

I managed to make my way into the kitchen with slightly more grace than I exited. The fridge was very well stocked for a place that wasn't used so often. Bacon, eggs, juice, milk. Even the thought of food made my stomach turn-over but I forced down a piece of dry toast before crawling into the shower.

The hot water was cleansing in more ways than one, and I stayed under the spray until I thought the heat would dwindle away. I was wrong. This place must have it's own boiler system. I'd be lucky to get ten minutes of hot water back at the school.

Almost an hour later, with freshly scrubbed skin and wet hair scrapped back into a bun, I set about finding some clothes suitable to be seen in, otherwise I wouldn't be heading back to my room until nightfall. Not that I needed to think that far ahead yet.

The bedroom dresser was also surprisingly full of an assortment of standard issue X-men physical training uniform. I picked out a large grey zip-up sweatshirt and some joggers. Unfortunately there was no undergarments to be found, but I did manage to find a pair of sneakers in roughly my size in a cupboard downstairs.

All this didn't take as long as I'd hoped and now I wasn't occupied, my mind started to wander again. Specifically to the conversation I'd had with Logan.

The riddles that man spoke in were infuriating! Never fully explaining himself, always leaving the ending open to interpretation. Talk of restraint and guilt, and _feelings_. And he didn't ever elaborate on what those feelings meant!

All his outburst achieved was me feeling just as lost a I normally did, maybe slightly less confused but definitely more frustrated. With him for being so cowardly and cryptic and thick-headed! Actually, I think I'm more annoyed with myself.

What would I even say to him now? It's made everything awkward. Maybe this is why he never said anything. Jesus, why do I even have a brain if I don't have the capacity to use it properly! It's like trying to think through mud. I yanked the elastic out of my hair, freeing it from it's tight constraints. Hopefully that would help.

My stomach let out a loud grumble. I should probably make an attempt at feeding myself again. I strode over to the surprisingly modern open-plan kitchen, pulling open the first cupboard I came across, kind of annoyed that it contained what I was looking for; a plate. I pulled a sharp looking knife from the block on the counter and grabbed an especially vibrant green apple from the fruit bowl. What right did it have to sit there so smugly, gleaming in all it's apple-y perfection. I knew it was totally irrational to think of an innocent piece of fruit in this way, but I was out for blood now and it was in my path.

Thinking about little, meaningless tasks helped keep my mind from overheating. That's all life was really, if you thought about it. A feature length life-time comprising of trivial things, compartmentalized into the only way we feel like we have some pretence of control; time.

I sliced into the apple with a swift motion, confirming my estimation of its sharpness. Unfortunately, my hand wasn't as pleased with the information. Being so distracted, I'd not only sliced through the apple, but also slashed a long slit down the centre of my palm. I watched as bright scarlet blood pulsated from the wound, nostrils flaring at the smell I didn't know I'd recognize so easily. Before this would have turned my stomach but whether this was down to emptiness or a recently acquired stronger tolerance, I wouldn't know.

_Stupid! Stupid! _I slammed the plate I was using as a chopping board down on the counter, cracking it into three large pieces, and when this didn't satisfy me, throwing the blood-slicked apple through the still open patio door. It skimmed the floor then rolled over the the white stone tiles, leaving a patchy red trail in its wake, until it came to a stop just short of the waters edge.

I sank down the the floor, swiping away tears of silent frustration. Why did it have to be one of _those_ days? Why could keep my shit together for even five minutes nowadays? What was wrong with me?

"You're bleeding?"

_Fuck!_ I let out a small squeak, my hand instinctively flying to my hammering heart. He stood silhouetted in the doorway, the grey-ish light from outside the only contrast between him and the dim room.

"Jesus Christ, Logan! Couldn't you have knocked or something?"

His hair was slick with rain I didn't notice was pouring down outside. He stepped towards me, dripping over what I was sure was very expensive wooden flooring, and crouched down to my position on the floor. He held out his hand.

"Let me see."

I looked at him with resignation before offering my sliced hand, palm up. The cut was quite deep but no longer steadily oozing blood, instead choosing to crust over into a brownish-red scab.

"Looks bad. Luckily for you, there still seems to be some residual healing factor left in you."

He's close to me. So close I could see the water droplets beaded on the ends of his eyelashes. So close I could feel the soft exhale of breath he emitted. The contact of his skin on mine was enough to bring back a ghost of that familiar buzzing that was reserved only for these too-close moments, and for the first time since the cure, almost mourn its loss. I snatched my hand back.

"Why did you come back?"

"I never left."

I looked at him in confusion.

"I thought you…"

"I needed to clear my head." He rocked back to sit up against the kitchen cupboards beside me, knees drawn up, wet denim sticking to his thighs.

That still didn't explain…

He stared into seemingly blank air before letting out a long, relinquished sigh.

"Listen, Marie. I'm no good for you. Contrary to what everyone believes, I'm not some kind of hero. I'm not invincible. I'm not anything but human. I'm a bad person. I've made… questionable decisions. Done things I'm not proud of… So I'm telling you now. I don't want you to wake up beside me and realize you've made the biggest mistake of your life."

My heart skipped about twenty beats. What was he saying?

"I shouldn't be here. I should have gotten the hell outta here the second I walked away. Like before. Like every other time."

He pauses to mutter a few choice words under his breath that were too low for me to catch but from the tone I guessed were curses. Berating himself.

"But now I'm starting not the see the point in fighting it anymore."

My brow creases and I feel the familiar sting behind my eyes. Not now. I couldn't cry now.

"I can't make you any more promises. I can't tell you I'll be around to give you the happiness you deserve. And I can't figure out a way this is going to work between us."

Sensing something was wrong, or perhaps smelling my unshed tears, he reached for my chin and tilts it up so he can look at me. I tried to avoid his hazel gaze but like always he's magnetic and I couldn't look away. His eyes bore into me, like he could see into my very soul.

Then he hugged me and I was again caught by surprise. I've hugged him before but this was different. He's hugging me.

One strong arm looped under my knees, the other around my back, and he lifted me from the floor as if I weighed nothing, carrying me to the couch, sitting me of his lap.

After today, I'd thought I'd lost this. Lost him. I was crying harder now. Great drops that splash down onto his shoulder, seeping into the already sodden cotton of his t-shirt.

He lifted a hand, stroking my hair back, drawing me in. Soothing. Doing everything he shouldn't. He feels so safe. So warm and solid, that when I bury my face in his wet t-shirt his smell overwhelms me.

He doesn't speak. Doesn't need to.

When my sobs subsided, I pulled back to look at him. Scrubbed over my face with the back of my hand. He offered me a slight smile, gently swiping my cheek with his thumb.

He allowed me in closer. To press my lips against his. I tasted salt and realized it was from my tears. I heard him suck in a breath at the intimate contact, but he didn't pull away. Letting me kiss him in the way I wanted. The way I've only been dreaming until now. My hands rested on his solid chest, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat.

When I finally pulled back to take a breath, that steady gaze is locked on me, black-rimmed and heavy-lidded with desire. I felt the deftness of his hands run over my sides before the soft sound of a zipper being undone and the soothing strokes became inquisitive against my bare skin.

And when he gently lay me down, I let down every barrier I'd put up, every defence system I'd ever put in place, and allowed him to.

His warmth left me for a second before being replaced with searing hot skin. The sensation sent ripples of heat through me, right to my core.

The weight of him. The solidness. It's real. Too real. Almost too intense. All I could do is feel. His mouth on my neck. The way he's pressing against me though his jeans, the seam rubbing against me in a way that made me ache in an unfamiliar way.

He guided my hand down his chest to his buckle. I fumbled. He helped me unhitch it, then slid my sweatpants off.

My pulse racing, as was my mind. This time, all thoughts but my own cease to exist. I don't know what was worse. All I kept thinking was, this isn't how I imagined it. _Hot and primal and desperate._ From recent experience, when was anything what I expected anymore?

Skin pale as milk against his glistening bronze, kneeing my legs wider to make room for him to settle in-between.

Feeling him rub against me, feeling his slick head testing, making the ache grow. Until he shifts upwards and he's pressing into me. Inch by inch. His jaw hardening as he battled with his self-control.

It hurt. I expected it to hurt… but somehow it was never this real in my imagination. It was… so much. His cock, although I hadn't dared to glimpse it, was big. Thick. I was glad I hadn't seen because maybe I would have changed my mind.

Creating a fullness my fingers could never match. Muscles not used to being used stretching. Accommodating.

I wanted him to stop, or at least stop moving, just for a second. Give me a moment to adjust. But as he slowly withdrew and pushed back in, I let out a whimper, which he must have interpreted differently.

He flexed into me again, deeper. Hot mouth at my ear, he let out a soft groan.

I felt each push, each pulse of this throbbing cock inside me. Buried so deeply I wondered how it fit. Every moment, his breath growing deeper. Heavier. His body damp, glistening with sweat.

"Logan?"

He stopped moving, tried to catch my eye, when he registered how quiet I'd become. How Unresponsive.

"Marie?" He tried to pull me around to face him. "Baby, look at me."

I shook my head, catching in peripheral as his lips flattened into a concerned line. He wiped something from my cheek.

"D'you want me to stop?"

I shook my head again, more vehemently this time.

God, If he didn't think I was some pathetic kid, he would now. I tried not to think of the barrage of ill-tempered thoughts waiting to burst through the moment this was over.

I was almost at my limit while he was barely getting by with his restraint. I could almost feel the power surging inside him, waiting not so patiently to be released.

He withdrew with a swift, fluid motion, pushing back to his knees. I raised my eyes far enough to take in the offending member, the hair around the base dark and matted with blood. He ran a hand through his hair, still half-wet from the rain, then made a motion to stand up.

"No, please." The thought of him leaving with this incomplete thing between us mortified me.

He raised a questioning eyebrow at me before standing and fully stripping off his jeans. He sat back down on the opposite side of the couch, facing me, before gesturing for me to come over.

I hovered awkwardly over him for a few seconds before he reached for me, pulling me down on top of him. His touch gentle as he brought his mouth up to mine, doing nothing but laying soft kisses against my lips. Every few seconds, his eyes would flick to mine, just to check, until I began to reciprocate.

Then ever so hesitantly, his hands began to stroke down my sides again, the pressure light, skimming with the very tips of his fingers. I squirmed a little until he lowered his exploring fingers further.

"I think we should have started with this? Eased you in gradually." His fingers circled lower until they reached the sensitive folds between my legs. The touch sent what felt like the equivalent of a lightening bolt through me and I shuddered.

He continued stroking until a tingling warmth flooded though me, coating his fingers and the inside of my thighs, and I was filled with so much more of that expectant aching I thought I could burst.

With a shift of his hips, I remembered the tight feeling of being filled and instantly tensed up. Logan responded with the gentle caress of his lips until the wave of apprehension had passed before sliding ever so slowly back inside me.

"Just try to stay relaxed. I'll take good care of you."

He moved again, followed by a broken groan, and the vibrations it caused rippled through me in a newly discovered kind of pleasure. It's that noise, and the way he looked at me, so unwavering and intense, that allowed me to forget everything else and just focus on him. On being with him.

When I began to respond to his thrusts, he whispered to me something unintelligible, pumping faster, a little harder. And it was starting to feel good. His hands slide their way over my butt, holding me in place while he moves beneath me. My own fingers grasp at anything they could find purchase on, which happened to be the vast expanse of naked chest directly below them.

One of his large hands came up around the back of my neck and pressed down so he could kiss me again, although I was beyond capable of doing anything but moaning onto his open mouth. I was loosing sense on what was reality. A kind of pressure was swelling within me, growing and expanding until…_until_… oh! _Ohh_…!

From somewhere beyond the white light, I felt Logan come right with me, hearing only his strained groan and labored breaths. His face buried in the hollow of my neck until he regained a measure of stillness.

We lay quiet for a long while after we caught our breath, his softening member still planted within me. A heavy wave of exhaustion rolled over, and It finally hit me how wiped out I was. Both physically and introspectively. On top of everything, those personalities had really done a number on me in the last twenty-four hours.

I moved to get up but Logan caught my chin before I could, his eyes silently asking if I was okay. An emotion most akin to worry etched within the lines of his face, lines I didn't notice before.

"I'm just… really tired."

"Then let's sleep for a while." He dragged a blanket down from its place over the back of the couch, covering us. The muted sound of the rain pattering outside lulling me into much needed, dreamless sleep.

…

AN - one more to go!


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